bombshell
by kelly.rockwell
Summary: After Erica's sudden transformation into a mega hottie, Lydia is convinced that she's trying to steal the spotlight. It doesn't go over well.


Lydia's been quietly seething for days.

Ever since Erica went all Extreme Makeover: Weird Quiet Girl Edition, she's become insufferable. She used to be the mousy girl who sat in the back and never raised her hand. But now? Now she's sitting front and center, flirting with everything that moves and making a point to lock eyes with Lydia at least twice in every class they have together.

And that's how Erica Reyes becomes an automatic threat.

Look, quite simply, when Lydia Martin walks the halls she turns heads so hard she causes whiplash. That's what a queen does. And it would seem that the little blonde nobody inexplicably turned pin-up girl has decided to steal her throne, if the slack-jawed idiots littering the hallway are anything to go by.

Everywhere she goes there's guys and girls alike drooling all over themselves, and Lydia knows before she even looks that they're staring at Erica. And, really, she wishes they'd all be just a little bit more original. Because the blonde bombshell thing? Such a cliche that it's actually embarrassing.

Yes, regrettably, Lydia has to admit that Erica is objectively gorgeous. Her hair falls in luscious waves and her red-painted lips are enticingly full. Her large eyes sparkle with golden flecks and her curves are to die for, but none of that matters. She's an interloper and she needs to be shut down.

It's lunchtime when Lydia finds her, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she talks to a flock of boys who look halfway between horny and terrified. Lydia isn't sure how that works, but she doesn't care.

"We need to have a little talk," she tells Erica, thinly-veiled malice in her tone. "Now."

Erica bats her eyelashes. "Do we?"

Lydia forces her sweetest smile. "We do," she says, eyeing the boys pointedly. "Alone."

Erica's hoard of admirers scatter impressively quickly, tripping over themselves in their hormone-addled state. When they're gone, Erica steps in closer, almost co-conspiratorially. "So now you've got me alone," she says, voice husky in a way that Lydia was not adequately prepared for. "What do you want, Lydia?"

And it's a problem suddenly that Erica is so close. Because her gaze is unwavering and her lips are curved into a smirk and it's all very distracting, and on top of that, Lydia isn't actually all that sure of what she wants to say. Somehow _'stop being so hot'_ doesn't sound quite hard-hitting enough.

"What I want," Lydia says after a long, uncomfortable moment of silence spent watching the way Erica's golden hair gleams in the mixture of sunlight and fluorescent overheads, "is for you to back off."

"Is that so?" Erica asks, arching a perfectly-shaped brow at her. "Tell me, what is it that you think I'm doing?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "I don't know what your endgame is, but I know you're sucking up attention like it's your only form of sustenance, and sweetheart, that's kind of my thing."

Erica laughs softly, and it's infuriating. Then she steps in even closer, and it's dizzying. "What if I told you that the only attention I'm trying to get is yours?" Erica asks, and it comes out just quiet and uncertain enough that Lydia doesn't outright dismiss it as a joke.

Lydia wants to be sarcastic, she really does. But that was just so _not_ the response she thought she'd get, and it sort of knocks her off her verbal game a little. "And why would you want my attention?" is what she eventually asks, and if it comes out a bit too disbelieving, it's only because this entire situation defies all logic.

Erica leans in impossibly closer, hovering a few inches away from Lydia's face before she diverts herself to whisper in her ear. "Because yours is the only attention worth having."

And again, on the list of unexpected responses, that one would rate pretty high. Lydia likes to think she's never at a loss for words, but at the moment, all she's got is wide eyes and shock-parted lips.

She feels a light touch on her arm and looks down to see Erica's fingers smoothing their way down towards her hand. When they reach her wrist, she hesitates. "Say something?" Erica asks, voice devoid of any trace of cockiness. And when Lydia meets Erica's searching gaze, she knows she's not being lied to.

Lydia _does_ mean to say words. She thinks she has the beginning of a perfectly good response just on the tip of her tongue, but it doesn't come out. Instead she leans in, slow enough that Erica could pull away if she wanted to, and presses her lips softly against Erica's.

Maybe there was a part of her that doubted Erica's sincerity, but it's gone as soon as Erica's arms wrap around her neck and she's being kissed back with enthusiasm.

They pull apart and Erica is beaming. She quirks an eyebrow. "You really thought I was trying to steal your spotlight?"

Lydia shrugs feebly and tries not to look as stupid as she feels. Her mind is reeling, though, so she just sighs and nods. "I'm sorry."

Erica shakes her head and giggles, gripping Lydia by the hips and tugging her in close. "No, it's okay," she says. "I just assumed you always knew."

"Knew what?" Lydia asks.

"That I've had a crush on you since freshman year," she says, and Lydia's noise of disbelief is cut short by Erica's mouth.

As her lips move slowly against Erica's and her fingers tangle in long blonde waves, Lydia decides that bombshells are quite possibly her new favorite thing.


End file.
